Mitch my teacher training buddy lends his thoughts on our course so far. He even says nice things about me – he’s obviously yet to know me better…
Teacher training: absolute madness at Absolute Yoga, Koh Samui
We’re sitting crossed-legged on cushions listening to a tone deaf Frenchman and his bendy Chinese beauty chanting what I only know as Deva Premal’s Gate chant. 14 of us are listening intently trying to work out what tune we’re meant to be following. We all look at each other, a bit perplexed, stifling giggles.
Welcome to my 500 hour teacher training. Michel Besnard is 70 years of age and has studied with both Sri Pattabhi Jois and Iyengar. He tells tales of both masters whilst introducing us to the Ashtanga primary series. He’s already had me up in front of the class in Warrior I. I attempted to be grounded and steady whilst he bent down and slapped my inner thighs. “Tense! Tense these! They’re so floppy!”
Catherine my accomplice and buddy from the Sivananda Centre in London has had her buttocks made into a spectacle in front of us all. “What are you doing with this bottom?! Everyone look! What is she doing wrong?!”
I’ve never sweated so much in a class. It’s day two. We’ve got five weeks of this. By the end, I better have thighs of steel and let’s hope Catherine’s bottom behaves.
Yoga and money: an emotive subject
It’s been so wonderful to spend almost two weeks at The Sanctuary but all good things must come to an end. As I jumped into a boat to take me back to Had Rin, my new found friends waved me off from the shallows on the beach. What a farewell. I’m now writing this waiting for a 50-minute ferry to Koh Samui where I’ll start a five-week 500 hour yoga training course with Absolute Yoga.
When I mentioned this course to people at The Sanctuary, it was very devisive. Some were intrigued and had heard good things about their training, others hadn’t heard of them, and some were very opinionated indeed.
Just by looking at the Absolute website, it’s clear to see that they’re very commercial. They have studios all over Thailand. The fact that I’ll be doing a module on ‘The Business of Yoga’ makes it as clear as day. I mentioned this to one of the yoga teachers at The Sanctuary and she went off on one about how she learnt to teach from an Indian Swami who refused to take any money from her. She thinks it’s terrible that a company in Germany now calls itself a ‘yoga company’ because it offers staff a class at lunchtime (I saw where she was coming from). It is certainly an emotive subject in yoga circles.
Now I wouldn’t say that I’m very commercially-minded and I have written about this before. I know the basics having working in marketing but I completed my first teacher training at an ashram in the Himalayas. I know a bit about where it all comes from and the intention behind it – I love it all and I try to be a bit yogic in my approach to life.
I don’t know if I’ll teach full time on my return to the UK but what I do know is that I’d rather not be out of pocket having taught a class to eager, stressed Londoners. If I pick up a few tips from that particular module then that’s great.
I’m also really looking forward to Carlos Pomeda’s module on yoga philosophy, having taken a workshop with him in London a few years ago. He is a totally inspiring and engaging speaker.
Right, well the ferry’s leaving in an hour and I fancy a pad thai. I’ll keep you posted about the course.
What do you guys think about making money from yoga? Is it a possible job or would you rather not rely on it to pay your bills?
The creatures seeking Sanctuary
I’m going to take you through a typical day at The Sanctuary, Koh Phang An, but with a particular emphasis on the beings that I often meet along the way.
7.25: Alarm goes off and I emerge from under the mosquito net in my bungalow. Before my feet touch the rug on the floor, I quickly scan the floorboards checking that no creepies have snuck in through the little cracks between the floorboards that let in the sunlight and show the grass below.
I get showered and dressed for yoga. I open the front door and almost immediately I can hear Linguine, the black and white cat miaowing. He appears from behind the bushes and strolls up to my bungalow. As bold as brass, he jumps up the three concrete steps up to my balcony and tries to walk into my room. I stand blocking him at the doorway, shooing him and telling the Thai cat “no” in English. I turn my back and he’s inside collapsed by the steps that lead down to the bathroom. “Get out!” I say. “Let me flop here like my namesake. I won’t be a nuisance,” he replies in cat Thai (I’m a fast learner of languages).
I don’t want to catch Thai cat lurgies but I want him out before I leave for class. I wrap the rug around him and push him towards the door. He stays in his exact slumped, deadweight position as I deposit him under the hammock on my balcony. “Why are you being so mean?” he asks as I lock the door and leave for my class.
I walk up the stone steps to the Buddha Hall, passing little ponds containing lush green water plants and black fish. In the undergrowth there’s Ganesha statues and the occasional Buddha.
8am: Yogi Simon teaches the flow yoga class. We do some Ashtanga sun salutations and he likes making us sit cross-legged with our arms straight up in the air. Shoulders relaxed and away from our ears, fingers outstretched, bottom ribs tucked in. “It’s good for you,” he says in his clipped South African accent with his bronzed torso on show. I find myself wondering whether his slightly odd line tattoos have any significance… FOCUS!
9.30am: After class, shiny black millipedes scurry along the footpath obviously on important business. This morning, Julie (Austrian, Sivananda-loving, barmy, Hindi-speaking, ex-air cabin crew) and I discussed whether they’re millipedes or centipedes. She thinks they have more than 100 legs but less than 1000. We settled on selling them ‘twohundredandfiftypedes’.
Myself, Julie, Matieu (French, Bikram boy, big smile and big curly black hair, soon to be covering for Simba in the West End’s Lion King) and Aurore (French, also smiley, likes reading, LOVES yoga) sit having smoothies and discuss yoga whilst swiping at the mosquitoes who are also hungry for their first meal.
I spend time sitting in a hammock under the palms on the beach reading. I might swim out to the platform and lie gazing into the see-through sea watching the Nemo clownfish dart about below. Matieu will probably be on the hammock on the platform. He’s never off the thing. We only get out when our fingers are pruney.
I might go to a talk at the Tea Temple. Yesterday’s was on Ayurveda and the Five Elements. Maybe I’m an Earth person with a touch of Fire. Throw is some of the restaurant’s healthy baked beans and I may become that popular 70’s soul band…
I might go to the 4.15 Yin Yoga class. Spend ten minutes lying on my back in a twist resisting the overwhelming temptation to fall asleep.
6/7ish: back to room, shower. Marvel at the tiny black ants on my bathroom wall, scurrying along an invisible path. They’ll be gone later but back tomorrow. What are they up to?
Dinner with yogi pals. Matieu uses his highly honed navigational skills to get us lost searching for a restaurant over the hill. The explorers emerge from the jungle and secure a spot sitting on a platform on top of a rock with views of the stars and the bay below. We eat by lantern light.
There’s a weekly film night where people lounge in the beach bar on cushions, and last night was the open mic night. Who’d have thought that ‘Ain’t nobody’ by Chaka Khan could sound so good accompanied by didgeridoo.
Then soon to bed. Tuck mozzie net in round bed and the fun really starts. Scrabbly noises in the dark… later there’s a repetitive two-tone noise that’s high then low: a huge gecko lizard. Claire from London (yes, there’s two of us. She’s from Crouch End) says they sound like they’re saying their name: GEH koooooh…. GEH koooooh. The crickets and cicadas join in too. And I fall asleep – well, at least until the gecko starts up again.
Have you been to The Sanctuary? What are your memories? Or perhaps reading this has whet your appetite. Feel free to comment below.
Oh and TTC buddies – you may spot a familiar face on the homepage of The Sanctuary website. Watch the slideshow.
From hell to heaven in 48 hours
This is the first of my posts I’m writing on my travels. The plan is to spend two months in Thailand relaxing and doing a 500 hour yoga teacher training course on Koh Samui, then go to Sri Lanka to see my friend Sherylee, then to India to do some more yoga. If funds allow, I’ll be away until December!
But first of all… Bangkok’s mad! I had been warned but it still came as a surprise. I had two nights in the city – the first staying in the business area in a very civilised but slightly pricey place, and then the second at a hostel near the Khao San Road. The road’s a backpacker’s mecca and attacks your senses from every direction. It’s brash, noisy and there’s shop after shop selling clothes and accessories to make you look like you’re a dab-hand at this backpacking malarky and not fresh off the plane.
There’s street hawkers and touts encouraging you to:
- buy two bits of wood that, when rubbed together, sound a bit like a bull frog. “Where’s that bull frog?” Oh no, it’s just a Thai lady of advancing years wearing a pointy, spangly hat rubbing two bits of wood together.
- invest in a magic trick involving a length of string and a plastic hoop. This bloke kept three gap year Brits entertained for half an hour. And they didn’t invest. Each of them sat back in their chairs and declared “I’m out” like the Dragons that they were.
- get a tattoo! Everyone else walking about has one! Get one!
- eat a dried frog/cricket/cockroach! I dare you!
- eat in this restaurant!
- buy an obscene friendship bracelet. This young and quite shy Thai guy came up with his board of homemade friendship bracelets that declared ‘f*** my c***’, ‘floss my pussy’ and ‘rape me now’. There were about 30 variations. I wonder how business was going for him.
I managed to fit in a visit to a 45ft reclining buddha (Wat Pho) and visit the Grand Palace (it was grand) but I think the one thing that amazed me the most was one bar on the Khao San Road – sorry to harp on about it. It appeared to be called ‘Golf Bar Cocktails Very Strong’ plus strapline: ‘We do not check ID & restaurant’. The place was full. Tables and people poured out onto the street and touts wore neon orange t-shirts echoing the name of the place. Good consistency of messaging at least.
My lodgings – the Suneta Hostel – was ranked no. 1 on Tripadvisor so I had high hopes. It was clean, modern and the dorm felt like staying in a huge sleeper train carriage – cabin style. Wooden doors slid closed to provide privacy and much needed darkness.
I was in bed by 10pm in readiness for my 3.30am start the next morning. It was a pity that my roomies didn’t have the same plan. I was awake at midnight listening to people arriving and slamming their cabin doors, at 1am hearing Chinese girls giggling whilst cleaning their teeth, 2am: more giggling. At 2.30am came the piece de resistance: a girl started moaning and groaning: “Oh god, oh god”. Had she flouted the rule about no company in her cabin? No! She was merely preparing to spend the next hour vomming and wretching and sometimes not making it to the loo in time! Maybe her ID hadn’t been checked earlier in the evening, but suffice to say she was still at when I made my getaway at 3.30am.
Now, a minibus, plane, ferry, motorbike and Thai longtail boat later, I am in bliss on Koh Phang An. Jumping out of the longtail boat and wading through the shallows to the beach, I feel that my trip has officially started. The Sanctuary was recommended by a few yogi friends and who’d have thought that I’d check in at exactly the same time as another Sivananda yoga teacher training graduate.
Meditation’s at 6pm… I best be off.
(High) thinking outside of the box
In preparation for my trip, yesterday I moved the contents of my flat into a storage unit on an industrial estate in South London. It was quite humbling to see all my wordly goods crammed into a 40ft/12m sq box. I was less impressed when I realised the cost of storing it all could easily sustain me in India for a month or so.
These possessions felt a bit like a millstone. No matter how many trips I’ve made to charity shops, it’s like lava flow – it’s all-pervading. I was at a satsang at the London Sivananda Centre at the weekend and Swami Krishnadevananda was talking about the importance of simple living and it was Gandhi who described his ideal lifestyle as “simple living, high thinking.”
In the West, we often we turn to material possessions for happiness but we forget that happiness can be found within. We become attached to these items and what they say about us: “I’ve got a huge flatscreen TV therefore I’m successful” or “I read intellectual books therefore I’m educated” but it’s really just our ego and we’re masking our true self.
It’s like in meditation. The Tibetan Lama Sogyal Rinpoche talks about how clouds obscure the blue sky beyond. The clouds are our thoughts, getting in the way of the blue sky or our ‘true nature’. By calming our mind, the clouds are lifted and we reconnect with who we really are.
So there you go. Who’d have thought that a warehouse in Wimbledon could allow us to think about the teachings of such great minds. In the meantime, next Friday I’m off to Thailand for two months to do more teacher training. I’ll then be visiting Sri Lanka and India and I look forward to keeping you all updated!
Om shanti.